


Drabble Challenge

by Wicked42 - Spider-Man (Wicked42)



Series: Wicked's PS4 Spider-Verse [5]
Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Nothing explicit, Sex Talk, crushing hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked42/pseuds/Wicked42%20-%20Spider-Man
Summary: 100 - 1000 word drabbles about WHATEVER YOU WANT!AKA, Wicked42's taking requests because everything she writes is too goddamn long. Please send help. XDFirst comment on each drabble will be the topic of the next drabble! Taking requests from Monday, May 13th - Friday, May 17th. If one of your prompts has already been picked, the next reviewer gets it!Drabble #1: First Time (college age awkwardness)Drabble #2: Crescendo (Pete falling for MJ)Drabble #3: Stalking (AKA Pete handling his crush pretty poorly)Drabble #4: Cover Story (MJ keeps May from knowing Peter's hurt. Kind of.)Drabble #5: Parental Arguments (Pete's idea for a baby gift is stupid)





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Read the description for rules, but they're explained in better depth [HERE](https://wicked-42.tumblr.com/post/184857744198/drabble-challenge) on my Tumblr! :D :D 
> 
> (And honestly, there's a remarkably good chance I'll release bonus chapters some nights, since I write too freaking fast to be entertained by 1000 words. >.> So even if your prompt isn't chosen for the official next entry, comment anyway, because I'll do my best!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #1: First Time  
> Prompter: [seekrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/works)
> 
> Prompt: "THE DAY AFTER THEIR FIRST TIME. I mean, smut is fine but the day afterwards can be so awkward when there’s been so much build up - especially if it didn’t.....go well"
> 
> Except I made it like, thirty minutes after their first time and amped up the awkward. Enjoy!
> 
> \------------
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of sex ahead. :P

Everyone’s first time is embarrassing.

_Everyone’s first time is embarrassing._

Somehow, chanting it over and over doesn’t make this moment any less horrific.

“It wasn’t that bad, Pete,” MJ says, but she doesn’t take his arm, doesn’t press against his side like usual. Her cheeks are still tinged pink, just like they’d been in the throes of their make-out session, just before he eased her to the blanket, just before—

Before—

Peter moans. “Don’t try to make this better.” He swears everyone on the street is staring at them. They’re fully clothed now, and the blanket they’d brought for the occasion is stuffed inside the duffel bag over his shoulder. But somehow, despite all the hidden evidence, he's absolutely certain everyone knows what happened.

“It wasn’t that bad.” MJ pauses, cheeks flushing further, and amends, “I mean, it could have been worse.”

“ _How_?”

Now she gets that glint in her eyes, the competitive one that means he’s about to lose, badly. “You could have been all floppy.”

Peter chokes. Literally chokes, right there on 5th Avenue.

“Hey. You asked,” MJ says, breezily.

If he didn’t love her so goddamn much, he’d throttle her. Well, maybe that was extreme. Maybe he'd just sob heavily, dramatically, until she admits she was wrong for mentioning _floppiness_ and tells him how studly and handsome he is.

“Don’t _say_ that,” he begs.

“Superstitious?” She blinks innocently. When he doesn’t laugh, she snickers and presses an awkward kiss to his cheek. Awkward because they’re currently walking back to campus, and she’s a foot shorter than him, and he’s still _absolutely mortified_ about what happened.

On their first—their first—

Peter can feel the humiliation all the way to his toes.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Come on, MJ! You didn’t even…” But suddenly, now, he can’t finish. Ironic, isn’t it? Feels like the Scorpion’s poison, slamming into his chest, spreading like toxic ooze until he’s shriveling into a Peter-shaped smudge on the pavement.

Actually, that might be preferable to this.

MJ coughs, clearing her throat, but he suspects she’s covering another laugh. He shrinks under her gaze, her soothing tone, as she says, “Come on, Pete, I never expected you to last long.”

What?

_What?_

“ _What_?!”

She rolls her eyes, seemingly oblivious to the _dagger she just shoved in his heart_. “Just because you’re—” her eyes roam the passers-by, and she quietly amends, “—you know… it doesn’t mean you’re not new to this. Everyone’s first time sucks.”

Maybe the Vulture could just like, flatten him right here in the middle of the sidewalk. Just crunch him through the concrete until they both slam into the sewers, until he’s so unconscious he might be dead, which means he’ll never have to finish this conversation.

“Your first time didn’t suck,” he mumbles.

Now she winces. “I… might have exaggerated Brent’s, ah, expertise.”

Peter perked up, eager for stories of her ex’s sexual failures. “Really?”

“Let’s just say he spent a whole lot of time plowing the sheets and totally missing the mark.” Now MJ’s blush rivals Peter’s, which makes him feel a lot better. “Worst part is, I was too embarrassed to tell him. So he finished like that, and I—went home.”

“No way.”

“Yep. Gotta say, this was preferable. At least I know I was _helping_ ,” MJ laughs, but it’s one of those laughs she does to save face, pretend like she’s a lot more comfortable in a situation than she actually is.

Good to know Peter’s not the only one melting into the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If we try again, I’ll—fix it.”

“Hang on. _If_ we try again?”

Peter’s heart skips a beat. God, he loves her. “I meant, when…?”

“Much better.” Now MJ does press against his side, her hands circling his arm. “Maybe next time, though, don’t pick a secluded rooftop without checking for security cameras.”

Peter buries his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaawkward. I imagine--wouldn't know firsthand, nope, not me--that fanfic Pete is often portrayed with crazy superhuman stamina, especially during sex. But what if he was just, you know, a normal teenage boy? Poor kid. XD 
> 
> And then there's MJ. No way is Pete her first. But man, still just as awkward. 
> 
> Seek-Rest, this was a fucking delight. (pun intended i'm so sorry) I literally laughed out LOUD figuring out Peter's humiliation. :P Almost ALMOST added a wedding scene where MJ uses this moment as her toast, but I figured Pete's been destroyed enough for 600 words. XD 
> 
> First person to comment will have their prompt written and posted tomorrow! Lay it on me!!


	2. The Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #2: The Crescendo  
> Prompter: [PurpleWrittingTiger15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleWrittingTiger15/pseuds/PurpleWrittingTiger15)
> 
> Prompt: "I wanted to ask you for a drabble of peter, fresh off of finding out he has a huge crush on mj, try to impress her and messing it up real bad, take it as whump or funny"
> 
> For Peter, falling in love doesn't happen in a moment. It's a crescendo, culminating in a terrible moment where he loses it all.

For Peter, it wasn’t sudden.

No, falling for MJ was like… like a crescendo on old Mr. Hoseo’s piano.

It started with a few peddled keys, back and forth, soft and slow, as they laughed on the walk to school or sat at Aunt May’s coffee table puzzling through homework. Her sly smile, how she’d flip her hair, her dedication and absolute drive to succeed, it was a constant melody in the back of Peter’s head.

Then she found out he was Spider-Man. And the music rose in volume, increased in tempo. Suddenly they were partners in crime, sharing knowing looks in the hallways when Flash raved about Spider-Man, or her breathless gasp when they plunged off a roof. Her gentle touch and sharp tongue as she worried over his injuries. Her whispered apologies when he messed up and people got hurt.

Peter asked her to prom.

Fisk resurfaced in Midtown.

And still the crescendo beckoned, even after MJ blinked back tears, his blood staining her gorgeous prom dress as she whispered, “Should have just danced with me, Tiger.”

It beckoned days later as MJ pressed the apology roses back into his hands, forcing a smile she obviously didn’t feel. “It was just prom, Pete. You did what you had to do.” She closed her bedroom door, shutting him out.

Peter’s chest tightened, and he didn’t know why.

Wouldn’t know why.

Not until summer started three weeks later, when some guy rang Aunt May’s doorbell and MJ tripped over herself to answer, grinning at the stupidly handsome college kid on their welcome mat, armed with an arrogant smile and a box of chocolates.

“Hi, Brent,” MJ said, cheeks flushing.

Peter didn’t see the exasperated look Aunt May shot him. The music drowned everything else out, muting the world, narrowing to this moment.

And Peter fell.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mary Jane?” Harry repeated skeptically.

And then he laughed.

Peter bristled. “She’s amazing, man.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Harry tipped his coffee back, drawing a long swig of the too-expensive cappuccino before flashing Peter a grin. “I’m not arguing MJ’s the full package. I’m laughing at how it took you _so fucking long_ to get on this boat.”

“What boat?”

“Jesus, Pete, have you been living under a rock? Every guy in our school had a crush on Mary Jane at some point or another. Even _Flash_ almost asked her to the winter formal junior year.”

Peter’s head spun. “F-Flash?”

“I heard he made the banner and everything, but after she turned down Matthew Charra, he chickened out.” Harry snickered. “God, I’d have paid good money to see that banner. MJ would have been laughing for _weeks_.”

She absolutely would have, but Peter couldn’t even imagine that. He was still hung up on what Harry had said before.

“Wait, wait. ‘Every guy.’ Does that mean—” Peter cut himself off, gripping the table a little too hard, until the wood creaked under his grip. He hastily released it, fumbling for his water instead, taking a nervous sip.

But Harry shook his head, clapping Peter’s shoulder. “Dude, I’d never do that to you.”

Relief. Peter sagged in his chair.

“I’ve honestly just been waiting for you to realize it. Didn’t think we’d _graduate_ before that happened.” Harry smirked, twirling the cup against the lacquered tabletop. “You’re pretty dense, you know that?”

He was right. Peter was dense. He’d ruined a special night, and now MJ was on a ferry to the Statue of Liberty, enjoying the bright summer sun and… and _Brent._ Peter’s heart clenched, and he slumped against the table.

“I messed up, man.”

“Leaving her at prom? No shit.” Harry glanced out the coffee shop’s window, at the tourists that always swarmed the city when the weather got nice. “Must have been some bad food poisoning.”

“The worst,” Peter mumbled, insides twisting with guilt. Maybe he should tell Harry the truth. Maybe Harry would… validate his choice. Because honestly, Peter had been cursing himself for weeks. What the hell was he thinking, choosing Fisk over _Mary Jane_?

People might get hurt, he’d reasoned.

Well, the warehouse was abandoned and the only one who got hurt was Peter. And afterwards, MJ.

“I mean, her new boyfriend’s a tool. He’s got nothing on you,” Harry said, but he didn’t really sound convinced.

Brent was a pre-med student.

Brent was going to be a pediatric physician.

Brent was on Empire State University’s football team.

Brent volunteered with sick children and used to be a model.

 _Brent_ was _amazing_.

Peter hunched further, eye-level with his water now. He sullenly traced the condensation on the side of the glass. “Maybe they’ll break up.”

But he didn’t quite believe it. MJ was relocating to Empire State University in two weeks. She’d already found a job on campus, two months before school even started. And since Peter wasn’t able to move into the dorms until August, it meant she’d be a whole lot further from him…

And a whole lot closer to Brent.

Harry sighed. “It’s not the end of the world, Pete. She won’t date this guy forever. Look, you want to know what my mom always said about dating?”

Peter nodded, glumly.

“She used to tell me, ‘Harry, you can’t control what someone else thinks, but you can control yourself.’” When Peter didn’t move, Harry huffed irritation, shoved his shoulder. “It means do your best, Parker. Make yourself someone MJ would be lucky to date when it’s all said and done.”

Peter glanced at Harry, brows furrowed.

Make himself someone MJ would be lucky to date.

Hmm.

 

* * *

 

 

“You changed your major?” MJ balked.

“Sure,” Peter replied, balancing on the chair to unhook the Christmas lights MJ had strung around her room. The room got increasingly emptier the longer they worked, everything that made this space _MJ_ packed into boxes.

Now that she was eighteen, she didn’t want to impose on Aunt May anymore. He got that.

He just—didn’t expect this to feel so final.

“Why?” She picked up her cheap digital camera, a relic from a time before smartphones… or before they could afford smartphones. She turned the tiny device in her hands, frowning. “You love photography.”

“Well, yeah, but no one ever got rich off photography.”

“Is our goal to be rich?”

Peter flinched. “N-No. That’s not what I meant. I just—All I’m doing is snapping photos of myself and selling them for a profit. I can’t _help_ people in that field.”

“I feel like I’m helping people in that field,” MJ said, curtly, tossing the camera into an open box.

God, did he always suck so badly at this, or was his sudden social ineptitude a byproduct of his crippling crush on her?

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Peter’s face heated, and he yanked too hard on the Christmas lights. They ripped off the wall, taking some of the plaster with them, and Peter promptly lost his balance. He wheeled his arms, slapped his hand against the wall at the last second. The chair he’d been standing on toppled.

MJ regarded him as he dangled a few feet off the floor, hanging by one hand.

“See, this is why I made _you_ hang these lights.”

“Smart,” he grunted, kicking off the wall to land on the ground. The lights swung lazily as he righted the chair. Aunt May wouldn’t be happy about the plaster—he’d have to fix that before she got home. “ _You’re_ helping people, obviously. But all I do is snap photos of myself and sell them for a profit. It’s not… exactly a doctorate.”

“Wait. Is this about Brent?”

Peter stiffened, carefully avoiding her gaze. “W-What? No. It’s about my future.”

Thankfully, she didn’t press it.

“Oh my god, Pete. Your future is going to be just fine,” MJ laughed as she taped up the box. “Tony Stark already offered you a job, and Mr. Osborn has been hinting at the same thing for years. I’m not sure what you’re worried about.”

“I just think I can be doing more.”

“More than Spider-Man?”

“I won’t always be Spider-Man.”

MJ pushed the box into the hall, huffing at the weight. “Sure, sure. It’s more of a _young_ genetically altered superhero’s game.”   

“Right,” Peter said, feeling pretty stupid.

MJ paused at the doorway, clapping her hands together as she glanced around the room. “Well, okay. What’s your new major?”

Now Peter swelled. A guy worthy of Mary Jane Watson. He couldn’t control her dating life, but he could control himself and who he turned out to be. And it felt _damn_ good when he replied, “Biomedical engineering.”

He risked a glance at MJ, but she regarded him with an approving smile.

“It suits you.”

Peter’s heart thumped in his chest.

It wasn’t the only thing that suited him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HI BRENT BACK AGAIN ARE YOU
> 
> For realz, though, back in 2014 I read a Cracked article that talked about dating and how men (and women) keep bemoaning the fact that they never "get the girl/guy" even though they're "just so nice." And the author--who I know was David Wong, but can't find the article for the LIFE of me--was like, "shut the fuck up and make yourself MORE THAN NICE." Like, why would a girl go for a nice guy when she can find a nice guy who's also a surgeon? I dunno. It stuck with me. XD 
> 
> I love the idea of Peter spending the next year becoming EVEN MORE AMAZING than he already is, just to be someone MJ falls for. And then it works a little too well and she's over here thinking she's unworthy. Poor kids. 
> 
> Amazing prompt, omg I loved this :D :D :D THANK YOU!
> 
> \--------
> 
> First person to comment below will have their prompt posted tomorrow!! Lay it on me!! :D


	3. Stalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #3: Stalking  
> Prompter: [Okamichan6942](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okamichan6942/pseuds/Okamichan6942)
> 
> Prompt: "We saw Peter randomly catch MJ when she tripped over the stairs in the dangers of alcohol.
> 
> Any chance there's a story about how it's not quite so random? Like Peter is literally waiting for chances to catch MJ before she falls during his crush with her."
> 
> \--------
> 
> Wicked42's Life Advice: Don't stalk people. Seriously. This fic does not, and will never, condone stalking someone. 
> 
> That said, read on for poor Peter, having it baaaad.

It was getting bad.

Like, nearing-stalker-levels bad.

Peter tried to convince himself this was normal. It was normal to keep a hyper-close eye on MJ when she left their dorm after dark. Normal to know her coffee order down to the half-packet of raw sugar. Normal to set his alarm forty minutes early just so he could lurk in the hallway to “catch” her on her walk to Economics 200.

Was it _stalking_ if he’d been her best friend for a decade?

… It kind of felt like it.

“Totally stalking,” Harry said over the phone.

Peter moaned, burying his face into his pillow. “Harry, you’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“Dude, it’s been over a year.” Harry paused, coughing roughly. It sounded like the flu, but a nasty strain that should put someone down for weeks. “Sorry. Been under the weather lately.”

“You should get some sleep. It’s late in Europe, isn’t it?” Peter said, pushing upright. Across the room, his roommate Jim huffed, tugged a pair of noise-canceling headphones from his desk, made a show of putting them on. Peter rolled his eyes. He kind of hated that guy.

Harry coughed again, but chuckled through it. “Thanks for the tip. Look, Pete, she broke up with Brent six months ago. An appropriate amount of time has passed. What the hell are you waiting for?”

Peter flinched. “I don’t know. A sign.”

“How is she supposed to give you a sign if she has _no idea_ you’re in love with her?”

“It’s just a crush—”

“ _Dude_.”

Peter groaned, flopping onto his mattress again. “Jesus, Harry, what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to her and be like, ‘Oh, hi, MJ. Here’s your coffee, and by the way, I’m obsessed with you.’”

“God, no wonder you’re single,” Harry muttered wryly.

“I’m actually _asking_ here, man.”

“Okay. You know what you should do? Save her from something.”

For a moment, Peter’s heart leapt into his throat, choking him. Had Harry finally figured it out? Why else would he suggest that if he didn’t know about Peter’s extracurriculars? And even if that _wasn’t_ the case—

“I’m not going to put Mary Jane in danger just to have a hero moment,” Peter hissed.

Harry sounded exasperated. “In danger? Pete, I’m talking about a social situation. Wait for a sleazy guy to hit on her, then swoop in and send him packing. Something like that. Shouldn’t take long with a girl like MJ.”

Oh. Peter relaxed. “Do you really think she’d like that? She’s pretty independent…”

“I’m telling you, dude. ‘Knight in shining armor’ is a phrase for a reason.” Harry paused, then added, “Or, you know, you could just wait until she finds another Brent. That worked really well last time.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Get some sleep. I’ll—”

“Call in a week with the same issue. I know.” Harry coughed again, but Peter could hear him smiling through the phone. “Later, buddy.”

“Bye.” Peter hung up.

Across the room, Jim swiveled in his chair, lifting one of his headphone’s earpads off long enough to say, “I think you’re stalking her. It’s creepy.”

Peter sighed. “Thanks, Jim.”

 

* * *

  

He tried four times.

Four freaking times, he attempted a “rescue.” The first time, some guy knocked her to the ground in his drunken run to class. Peter tried to catch her, but she righted herself. He opened his mouth to scold the guy, but she was already shouting obscenities after him.

She was definitely a New Yorker, born and bred.

The second time, this creep working the hot dog stand told her the meal was free if she flashed him. Peter bristled, ready to take him down, but… well, MJ punched him first.

The third time was an _actual villain attack._ Scorpion, taking hostages at the student union, and of course MJ smoothly inserted herself to let other bystanders escape. Peter almost died when the Scorpion’s tail curled around her waist, squeezing until she gasped for breath, but she just slammed a knife— _where_ did she get a knife??—into the joints of the mechanical suit, and the tail malfunctioned.

Apparently, she followed a blog dedicated to Scorpion’s whereabouts. She knew last week there was a high probability he’d attack campus.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Peter muttered, walking her back to their dorm after everything.

“Can’t do your job for you, Tiger.” MJ poked the growing bruise on her arm.

“Kind of feels like you can.”

She flashed him a sunny smile, and his stomach flipped.

The final time, it wasn’t a villain or a creep. It was just a normal guy she partnered with in Ethics who fell hard and fast, and didn’t have the reservations—read: gut-wrenching terror—Peter did. The guy asked MJ out.

Peter swiftly intervened, puffing up his chest, about to tell him to buzz off, but MJ just laughed and took his phone number and said, “I’ll call you.”

“Great!” the kid looked ecstatic.

As he strolled off, Peter, pretty much dying on the inside, mumbled, “This is Brent all over again.”

“Did you say something, Pete?” MJ tucked the guy’s number into her pocket.

Peter ducked his head. “No. Nope.”

She squinted at him.

He was starting to realize that Harry was wrong. Even when she was captured or injured or inconvenienced, MJ would never be a damsel in distress. It just wasn't in her blood. She had no need for a white knight.

Which meant she had no need for Peter.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, his alarm didn’t go off.

He awoke thirty minutes late, with barely enough time to do anything but propel himself out of bed and throw on clothes. No brushing his hair or his teeth, or slapping water on his face. He wouldn’t have time if he wanted to catch MJ on her way to class—

Hang on.

Peter stopped, midway out the door.

What if… he _didn’t_ stalk her today?

All this time, he’d been trying to get on MJ’s good side. Show her he was a great person, might be an amazing boyfriend, and she should definitely be interested. By now, it was routine to lounge outside her hallway, just waiting for her to emerge. By now, he’d be faking an excuse to walk her to class, just to eke out a few extra minutes with her.

But suddenly, today, he didn’t want to do that.

Today, he wanted to do things on his own accord, without the pressure of debating if MJ’s smile meant _you’re my best friend_ or _let’s be more._ Harry and Jim were right; it was creepy, obsessive, and exhausting.

Peter set his jaw. So… okay. He wouldn’t walk MJ to class.

Look at that. Growth.

He locked his room, strolled right past her hallway for the staircase—

—only to hear a familiar gasp, a skidding sound, a yelp—

Someone was falling.

No, not someone. _MJ._

Peter careened into the staircase just in time to grab her around the waist, yanking her back onto the landing. Her books were flying, and time seemed to slow as instinct kicked in; they were alone, and those books were expensive, so he _schwicked_ them right out of the air.

Time snapped back into focus as they both recovered from the adrenaline rush.

“Watch your step, MJ,” he said, only half-joking. But heart still hammered— _this_ was why he walked her to class, why he followed her around at night, why he, for lack of a better word, stalked her.

He’d never met a woman more danger-prone than Mary Jane Watson, and it terrified him.

MJ stared at him, breathless. “Y-Yeah. My mistake.”

He handed her textbooks back. Her hands were shaking.

“Are you okay?” His brows furrowed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. No,” MJ said, sounding dazed.

Why was she staring at him like that? He was suddenly very aware of his unkempt hair, his ratty t-shirt, his unwashed face. He shifted, running a hand through his hair in a pathetic attempt to style it. “Oh. Okay.” An awkward pause. _Stay strong, Parker. Today was the day you weren’t going to stalk her._ He swallowed, forced himself to say, “Well, I’ve got to—”

“Do you want to walk me to class?” she blurted.

Peter stilled.

What… what was happening?

“Um, s-sure. That sounds great.”

It wasn’t stalking if she asked, right?

Right.

 

* * *

 

“I told you, man. Save her from something.” Harry said later that night. “God, I’m like, the matchmaking guru over here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

But Peter couldn’t stop smiling.

Finally, they were getting somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble 1: 636 words.  
> Drabble 2: 1464 words.  
> Drabble 3: 1412 words. 
> 
> Man, I suck at this. XD 
> 
> First new commenter's prompt will be written for tomorrow!! :D (And don't worry if it's not yours; I actually love this so much I'm planning to just... keep going as long as there are prompts. So you'll get a chance <3 )


	4. Cover Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #4: Cover Story  
> Prompter: [FascinatedFinch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FascinatedFinch/pseuds/FascinatedFinch)
> 
> Prompt: "How about a fic where MJ has to cover for Peter's secret from May?"
> 
> AKA: MJ isn't great at creating cover stories on the spot.

 

There were blessings to living in Aunt May’s house: the hot meals that always seemed to be on the table, the privacy MJ never had to ask for, the quiet comfort of knowing exactly what to expect when she and Peter came home from school.

But there was a downside.

Because at least when MJ lived at home, she missed _half_ of Peter’s injuries.

“Peter, MJ! Come down for breakfast,” Aunt May called up the stairs.

Saturday pancakes. God, MJ loved this place. She shoved her homework aside, inhaling deeply as she broached the hallway. Smelled like chocolate chips and cinnamon, the Parker specialty.

Peter’s door cracked open. “Coming,” he called. To Aunt May, it probably just sounded sleepy, but MJ knew better. She stopped short, glancing sharply at him, eyes widening when she saw his state.

“Jesus, Pete,” she breathed.

He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, gripping it a little too hard. His hair was mussed, his eyes glazed—almost like he had a concussion. She was at his side in an instant, grabbing his arm as he staggered forward.

“Nope, no,” she whispered, all-but shoving him back into his room. He stumbled, but she was already easing him onto the bed.

“’M fine,” he said.

He was slurring the words.

“You’re definitely not,” she hissed, easing the door closed as her heart hammered in her chest. Aunt May was downstairs, and Peter had been fine when he went to bed—she couldn’t know he’d slipped out last night on patrol, couldn’t know he’d been hurt somehow. MJ’s mind raced. How could she hide this?

His suit was on the floor, and she kicked it under the bed, glanced around the room for other signs of his extracurriculars. Nothing specific. He also didn’t seem to be bleeding, which was good… unless the bleeding was on the inside.

God.

“Why didn’t you get me?” These days, when Peter was injured, he’d knock on her window, and she’d slip into his bedroom while Aunt May was sleeping. Take care of the problem before his aunt woke up.

Pretty convenient his own personal nurse lived next door.

But Peter just blinked heavily. “T-Thought it’d go ‘way.” He swayed under her firm hold. The dazed look in his eyes scared her, and she tightened her grip.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Rhino’s a jerk.”

“ _Pete_.”

He seemed to struggle to focus. “I—I can’t ‘member. Think he hit me.”

“Hit you where? Your head?” But her hands were already in his hair, feeling for wounds. Didn’t take long to find it: a bump the diameter of an apple, with dried blood caked in the center. MJ swallowed hard, gently probing the wound. Peter flinched, hissing pain.

“Yeah,” he said, distantly.

“Kids?” Aunt May called. “Food’s getting cold!”

MJ felt hot all over, suddenly terrified about what this meant. It was rare Peter couldn’t rally for an hour or two in the mornings, just long enough to convince May he was fine. Even rarer for it to happen on a Saturday, when she wasn’t out the door at 7am for work.

MJ clenched her jaw, drew a shaking breath. “Okay. I’m going to handle this. Stay here, but don’t you dare fall asleep, you hear me?”

He nodded, blinking heavily, and she sprinted out the door.

Aunt May was climbing the stairs.

MJ physically blocked the top of the staircase, forcing a smile. “Aunt May, Peter’s not feeling well. He’s staying in bed, but I’d love some pancakes!”

May raised an eyebrow. “He’s not feeling well?”

“Just a cold,” MJ replied, hoping to keep her out of Peter’s room all-together. God, lying to this woman was like lying to a priest. “But he’s asleep again. Best not to wake him.”

Now Aunt May crossed her arms, looking amused. “Mary Jane, I’ve raised that boy. You don’t need to tell me how to parent.”

MJ winced. “I didn’t mean—he’s just really not feeling well. That’s all.”

“Go eat your pancakes, dear. I’ll check on him.”

She purposefully stared at MJ, waiting for her to unblock the staircase.

MJ didn’t move. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins, her mind screaming: _better think of something else_! Aunt May was getting more and more suspicious; time was running out. Come up with something!

Panicked, MJ squeaked, “He’s drunk!”

_Jesus Christ, that’s your plan?_

Yep. That was the plan.

Apparently.

Aunt May balked. “What?”

“He—snuck out last night.” God, this was such a stupid idea. She was never going to buy this. “There was a party with some high school friends, and—and he went. And now he’s drunk. I’m so sorry, Aunt May.”

“Oh, you’re not the one who’s about to be sorry.” In the four months MJ had been living at this house, she’d never seen Aunt May look so dangerous.

MJ skittered out of the way.

“Peter,” Aunt May hollered, shoving open his door. “A party? _Really_?”

Peter was sitting exactly where MJ had left him, looking dazed. Looking concussed. But to Aunt May, maybe he did just look drunk. MJ’s stomach twisted, and she mouthed, _“Sorry,”_ over May’s shoulder. Peter didn’t seem to notice.

“Underage drinking? What would Ben say?” May continued, looming over him.

He stared at her, like his mind was working too slow to comprehend this. MJ held her breath, but eventually he managed to say, “I—I’m sh-orry.”

Aunt May stiffened as he slurred the word.

MJ inserted herself, literally moving between May and Peter. “It was my fault. Honest, Aunt May. I’m the one who convinced him to go.”

“But you didn’t force those drinks down his throat, did you, Mary Jane?” Now Aunt May frowned at her too. “Did you attend this party?”

“N-No. I had studying to do.”

Peter hung his head. MJ wasn’t even sure he understood what was happening, in his state.

Aunt May pressed her lips into a thin line. “Interesting. Choosing to study instead. What a novel idea.” Her eyes flicked back to Peter. “What do you have to say for yourself, Peter?”

He took so long to respond, MJ thought he might pass out right there. God, what would May do then? But Peter finally collected himself enough to whisper, one last time, “Sh-orry.”

 “Not yet, you aren’t, but you will be,” Aunt May said. “You’re grounded until fall break. After school, you’ll come straight home. No socializing, no study groups, _no parties_. Do you understand me, Peter Parker?”

He nodded, meekly.

“Good. Sleep this off, because tonight, I want a handwritten essay about the perils of underage drinking.” Aunt May shook her head and turned from the room.

It wasn’t a physical beating, but shit, it sure felt like it.

MJ watched Aunt May leave, slamming the door in her wake. “Wow,” she breathed. “She’s terrifying.”

Peter sunk onto the mattress, wincing as the bump on his head hit the pillow. “Grounded? This sh-ucks.”

“At least you still have your secret identity,” MJ said.

Peter moaned.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bahaha. Finch, this was great, omg XD Poor Peter. Scary May is scary. 
> 
> First commenter who wasn't chosen already will have their prompt written for tomorrow!! (Bumblebea, I swear I haven't forgotten you!! <3 )


	5. Parental Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #5: Parental Arguments  
> Prompter: [Bumblebea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebea/pseuds/bumblebea)
> 
> Prompt: "Okay but seriously, my request is maybe married Peter/MJ talking/arguing like a married couple? I always think middle age married couple banter is the best."
> 
> I didn't make them quite middle aged, but LOOK it's MAY. >.> Deepest apologies for being a week late on this. XD

“Why in the _world_ would she want that?”

Peter stiffened, offense written all over his features. In his hands, the makeshift sling hung limply, white webbing sticking to his gloved hands. “It’s cool! Who doesn’t want to swing through the city with dear old dad? She’s going to love it.”

“She’s twelve days old!”

“Which means her spider-cation is ten days late.”

“Her spider vacation?”

“Spider _edu_ cation. Keep up, MJ.”

MJ crossed her arms, trying to decide between exasperated and amused. “Let me get this straight. You want to gift this brand new baby—who can’t even hold up her head yet—with a sling to go webbing around the city. That doesn’t seem like a Bad Idea to you? Capital B, capital I?”

Peter pressed his lips together. “It’s secure. Her head will be safe. Look, there’s a brace—”

“Okay, hon? I know it’s been a while, but let me walk you through Baby 101. Imagine she’s an egg. Very fragile, with lots of gooey stuff inside.”

“Gross.”

“Now imagine you take that egg on a tilt-o-whirl. What happens to the yolk?”

Peter huffed. “We did it with May—”

“May was older. And look how that turned out,” MJ jerked a thumb at the ceiling, where their seven-year-old was spinning the ceiling fan with a devious grin, dangling precariously by a few fingertips and her toes.  

Peter barely glanced at her. “Miles is going to love this.”

“I can personally guarantee you _Gwen_ will not.”

“Okay, Watson. A wager.”

“Oh, Tiger, I don’t think you want to go there.”

Peter stuck out his hand, jaw set. “She’s going to love it, and he’s going to use it, and it’ll be fantastic. Or I’ll—”

“Take me on a European vacation,” MJ said, crossing her arms. Her devious smile almost perfectly matched their daughter’s.

Peter hesitated, withdrawing his hand slightly. “But—if I leave New York—”

“That’s the bet, Pete. You want to give Gwen that abomination? My vacation’s on the line.”

“Ugh. _Fine_.” They shook. “But she’s going to love it.”

Above their heads, May cackled. “No she’s not, Daddy!”

Peter flinched.

MJ smirked.

 

* * *

 

 

“Uh—what is this?” Gwen asked, shaking her hand as the webbing stuck to her fingers. And the gift bag. And the tissue paper. And, well, everything else.

MJ nudged Peter.

He cleared his throat. “It’s a sling. For—for webbing around the city.”

“With the baby,” Gwen said, slowly, disbelief coloring her features.

Miles readjusted his hold on their newborn. “Oh, _cool_. Aw, man! This is gonna be—” Gwen shot him a look, and he clamped his mouth shut, cleared his throat, shot Peter an apologetic look. “Uh… unsafe and very not okay. Really, Pete, it's not a good idea.”

“I’m thinking Switzerland,” MJ drawled. “Gorgeous mountains and scenic little towns. No skyscrapers for miles.”

At her side, Gwen’s brows furrowed as she tried to unstick the sling from her left hand. It glued to her right instead, and her expression dissolved into frustration. “What’s this about Switzerland?”

“Never mind,” Peter muttered, and cycled through the settings on his web-shooters. “Nothing that concerns you.” He sprayed Gwen’s fingers with a water-like liquid, and she breathed a sigh as the webbing dissolved.

“I mean, the thought is really nice,” Miles said helpfully, carefully handing the baby to MJ.

“Yep. Great job, Tiger,” she added, swallowing a laugh.

Peter hung his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the CRAZY delay on this, guys. XD I am going to be writing my original stuff here soon, but I felt pretty crappy leaving this unfinished. At least now there's five drabbles, as promised. :D 
> 
> Man, older Pete / MJ is so hard for me. There's none of the juicy drama they have in their twenties. But married + kids Miles / Gwen is adorable. O.o
> 
> I might add to this fic later, so feel free to follow for potential chapters! This is a lovely way to pass the time! :D


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